Not by the hand of man
by Amarie Vanyarin
Summary: Gandalf the wizard tries to cheer Glorfindel up after the War of the Ring by introducing him to a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. There have been several versions of this already written. And also a cartoon. I hope you enjoy reading mine...


The Midsummer wedding of King Elessar and Queen Arwen had been glorious, and the joyous celebrations throughout the city of Minas Tirith - songs and dances, feasting and drinking, had gone on all day and looked to carry on throughout the night.

Evening had fallen. In the great Hall of Feasts in the Citadel, tables still laden with delicacies glowed in the light of the torches and braziers on the walls, but most of the guests were sated with food, and many of them sat at the long tables in the hall drinking and exchanging tales.

The golden-haired elf and the white-robed wizard seated at one such table had earlier exchanged notes on balrog slaying, and were now listening to the elven prince of Mirkwood and his dwarf companion from Erebor recounting their brave feats of battle at Helm's Deep.

The tale was stirring and the audience of elves and hobbits around the table was rapt. But as he puffed on his pipe, the white wizard glanced at the face of his golden-haired balrog-slaying friend and caught sight of a wistful expression on his boyish countenance. The wistful expression of a born warrior who, forced to sit on the sidelines while others went forth into danger and battle and glory, was now feeling a little sad that history and heroism had passed him over and that his idle sword had played no part in this war now won. The balrog he had slain had been over six thousand years ago, and offered little comfort to one who was feeling rather forlornly like a has-been.

"Lord Glorfindel, come with me a moment," said the wizard once grey into the golden-haired elflord's ear. Glorfindel looked curiously at the white-robed wizard, then back at Prince Legolas Thranduilion and his dwarf friend Gimli son of Gloin, and courteously excused himself.

As the golden-haired elflord rose from the table, the wizard said in Westron quietly to one of the hobbits sitting at the table, "Master Meriadoc, you shall come with us as well."

As Glorfindel followed the wizard through the crowd in the great hall of feasting, he took care to shorten his stride to allow the hobbit to keep up.

"Master Merry, I do believe you have grown taller since we last met in Rivendell!" he said to the hobbit.

"Give me some time, I'll catch up with you," said the curly-haired hobbit airily, craning his neck to look up at the tall elflord.

Glorfindel smiled, and said to the white wizard walking ahead of them, "Olórin, where do you take us, and what is this mystery?"

"Ah, there she is."

In a corner of the great feasting hall by a window, a dark-haired lord and a golden-haired lady stood looking out into the night and speaking quietly. Hair of flaxen gold fell in a single thick braid woven through with white ribbon down her back to her hips, and she wore a white gown with long flowing sleeves, a silver girdle clasped at her waist. The wizard went ahead and spoke to them.

". . .There is someone you should meet," Glorfindel's elven ears could hear Olórin say above the music and voices of the wedding feast.

The fair young lady of the Rohirrim turned, and was stunned to see a tall, shimmering being standing next to a familiar hobbit. In the light of the torches mounted in the brackets above them, the beautiful being with long golden hair that glowed like the morning sun looked at her with courteous wonder in his deep-blue glittering eyes. His pointed ears showed him to be of the elvish folk, but he shone brighter than many of the others she had seen from a distance. He too wore white, his long flowing robe embroidered with a golden tree.

He bowed gracefully to both Éowyn and her companion and said in a voice like music, "The stars shine on our meeting, lord and lady. I am Glorfindel of Rivendell." His Westron was strangely accented but crystal clear.

Her steel-grey eyes were baffled, but her curtsey matched him in courtesy. "Well met, lord. I am Éowyn of Rohan."

"And I, Faramir son of Denethor, of Gondor," said the dark-haired young man with a smile and a bow to the elflord.

A brief, awkward moment followed, when all four glanced at Gandalf the wizard in some bemusement, only to see him smiling enigmatically at the elf.

Waiting.

Then the tall elf looked down into Eowyn's eyes with a penetrating, brilliant gaze, and she suddenly felt upon her skin a power emanating from him, like lightning in the air during a storm.

Slowly, understanding lit his glittering blue eyes.

"Fair Eowyn of Rohan, I am honoured to meet she who is no man; she by whose valiant hand the Witch-King of Angmar has been vanquished," he said with a radiant smile. He bowed again to her, more deeply this time.

"A thousand years ago, at the Battle of Fornost, a prophecy was spoken by Glorfindel after he defeated and drove away the Witch-King of Angmar," said the wizard casually. "A prophecy about the Lord of the Nazgûl: '_Do not pursue him… Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall_.'"

For a brief moment there flashed in Éowyn's mind the vision of a shining white warrior on a white horse, with blazing eyes and streaming golden hair, his sword flaming with a cold, pure light, and a black horseman with a terrible shriek fleeing before him...

She blinked. And there was only a tall elf standing before her, smiling warmly and not looking fearsome at all, merely pleased by the puzzle he had solved.

A thousand years ago. The history of her own people only went back five hundred years, and Eowyn could barely grasp a length of time as long as a thousand. Her heart was struck with awe at the elvish folk, who could be in appearance like untried youths but were more than a thousand years old; who looked so frail and slender next to the sturdy breadth of the men of her race, but who wielded an ancient power.

She returned the smile of the elf. "Indeed, much has been said to me of this prophecy since that day. From the lips of the Black Rider itself it was spoken ere he fell. I did not think to ever meet he who had uttered it. But I acted not alone." She looked at Merry. "Not without the bravery of Meriadoc of the Shire could the Black Rider have been defeated."

Merry beamed and grew another inch taller.

Glorfindel laughed with delight. "A heroic shieldmaiden and a stalwart-hearted hobbit! Not by the hand of man indeed. We shall sing of it still among the elves in the lands beyond the west, when we recount to our kin the brave deeds of the peoples of Middle Earth. If you have time, and it wearies you not to repeat it yet again, I would wish to hear the telling of the tale."

"I thought you would all enjoy this little moment," said the wizard as they found space to sit at a nearby table and were served both wine and mead. His eyes twinkled as he looked at Glorfindel in particular. "And perhaps, Lord Glorfindel, you could tell Lady Eowyn of the time you met her ancestor Eorl the Young on the broad plains by the Anduin, and rode with him when he first came to Rohan..."

_Gandalf's quotation of the prophecy is taken from The Lord of the Rings vol. 3 The Return of the King, Appendix A_


End file.
